


Unexpected

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Childbirth, Happy Ending, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, New Relationship, One Night Stand, Pregnant Sam Winchester, Worried Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 21:09:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20160136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Sam had given up hope on him and Dean when out of the blue, it happens.Until the consequences of a chance encounter a few weeks earlier threaten their relationship and Sam’s newfound happiness.Because there’s no way Dean will ever be content to raise another man’s kid.





	Unexpected

There was a bottle of water in the glove box; Sam wasn’t sure how long it had been there, and it was warm and stale-tasting, but anything was better than the sharp-bitter taste at the back of his throat.

“I was thinking,” Dean said. “Maybe after we check in on Cas, we could take a couple of days off. Alone.”

Sam nodded, but didn’t look around. He didn’t have to; he just knew Dean was grinning, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. But the truth was, he was a little too scared to move.

His stomach felt like it was slowly hitching its way into his throat and even just a twitch would make him…

There wasn’t even time to tell Dean to pull over; he cupped a hand frantically over his mouth, flailed around until he found an old takeout back within reach on the back seat, and puked into it.

“Fuck, Sam,” Dean said, but it was worry not annoyance, and his brother put the blinkers on before guiding the car to the side of the road.

He turned, and rubbed Sam’s back as he emptied his stomach. It seemed to take forever, and then he slumped back, sore and panting.

“Stomach flu?” Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. “Don’t think so. Maybe...maybe that diner?”

“Mindy’s?” Dean looked almost offended at the suggestion. “Dude, we’ve been making that our go to for food any time we’re out this way. I’d eat off the floor in there.”

Sam groaned as his stomach gurgled queasily. Right then he felt like he might never eat again, and he wasn’t up to a debate on whether or not another of Dean’s favourite food stops had given him more than just service with a smile.

And, as if the mere mention of food was enough to trigger his stomach again, he threw open the door, and lurched sideways just in time to throw up on the ground and not the car or himself.

Dean carefully undid his seatbelt, but kept a hand fisted in his shirt to make sure he didn’t pitch out of the car.

“Dude,” he said, and carefully petted Sam’s neck with his other hand. “I think we better get back home to Cas.”

Sam nodded. It was only four hours back to the bunker. Given the hell he’d been through before, he could last four hours.

++

He lasted, but by the time they got there Sam was rethinking his certainty that puking his guts up every five minutes over that time span was something he could just push through.

He felt like he could just die there, just curl up right outside the bunker door and let go, but Dean came around, and got him onto his feet and practically carried him to the front door.

It swung open, and Cas was there, looking concerned.

Sam smiled, or tried to, but even though he was glad to be home and glad to see their angel, his throat felt stripped raw, his stomach was a throbbing mess, and he was so thirsty he could have cried.

Then Cas reached up, and pressed two fingers gently to his forehead, and it all went away.

Sam straightened up, feeling like somebody had dumped half a ton of caffeine into him. All his energy was back; the pain was gone, and it was like the last four hours was just some kind of bad dream.

Cas was looking at him kind of odd though.

“I’m good,” Sam said, wondering if Cas just wasn’t sure he’d healed him properly. The quick patch they’d used on Heaven - a temporary fix it at best - had made his, and the other angel’s Grace a little wonky, but he’d got it right.

That didn’t stop his stomach squeezing in tight, like somebody was playing it as a concertina, and then he was doubled over again, twisting away in time to avoid spattering Dean or Cas as he threw up.

“Cas?” Dean’s tone was half way between scared and accusing.

Cas just picked Sam up, bridal carry, and bore him inside. “I think I want to check something out.”

Sam just groaned. This, apparently, was his luck.

++

Cas chased Dean out of the room, which wasn’t easily done, but he insisted Sam had a right to privacy, and Sam knew he looked wrecked and wasn’t above using that to get Dean to agree.

When they were alone, Cas sat down on the edge of Sam’s bed.

“Sam. I need to ask you a personal question.”

Sam felt the tinge of worry start in at him. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what Cas was going to say. Ask. Whatever.

Cas’s healing had never failed them before, even when the angel had to do it in stages because they were really hurt or he was himself, or just running on empty.

“Okay.”

“Have you and Dean….”

Fuck. Sam felt his cheeks flush. There was no way they’d even think about keeping their relationship a secret from the angel; he was their family, and besides - trying to hide it would have been wrong, and a lie, and after it had taken them this long to get there, Sam wasn’t in the mood for denying things.

But they weren’t _there_ yet, so he shook his head.

And then Cas put a hand comfortingly on his knee, and dropped the bomb; he kept his voice soft, and gentle, but there really was just one way to say it.

“I think you’re pregnant.”

Sam couldn’t say anything for the first few moments. Then he shook his head again.

“I...Cas, you have to be wrong.” It sounded more like he was pleading with the angel for that, than asserting a fact.

“I don’t think I am. We can get a test, but I can sense hormonal changes in you, and…”

Sam covered his face with his hands. No. Cas was probably right. Because even though he hadn’t slept with Dean, he had slept with somebody.

++

Sam didn’t know what Cas said to Dean, but it kept his brother out of his room while the angel went into the pharmacy in town.

Sam wasn’t sick while Cas was gone, a blessing and not just because he had definitely had enough of puking - he knew Dean would have burst in the moment he heard Sam puking, but if he had, he’d have blamed his nerves as much as….

His condition.

When the angel came back, concealing the test in his pocket, he helped Sam to the toilet just along the hall and waited outside to give him some privacy.

It didn’t take long for Sam to open the door, and show Cas the positive indicator on the stick.

And, when Cas held out his arms, Sam didn’t hesitate to just slump into them.

Now...he needed to see Dean.

++

“This…”. Sam stared at his silent, sullen brother, wondering when life would stop trying to destroy every piece of happiness they ever found. “It doesn’t have to change anything?”

But who was he kidding? He hadn’t cheated on Dean; the big guy at that bar had been two weeks before he and Dean had finally admitted their feelings; the only reason Sam had gone with that stranger was he’d been so low, so sure Dean would never reciprocate his feelings.

And okay, protection had been the last thing on his mind and so here they were.

“Dean, please.” He knew he was begging, but Dean hadn’t said a word since Sam had told him, and he was starting to wish he’d taken Cas’s offer of being there for moral support when he broke the news.

This couldn’t be it; Sam couldn’t accept that he’d just reached the place he’d wanted to be so long and it was all gone, now.

Dean got up sharp, and Sam, though he knew his brother would never hurt him, flinched; he realised later it hadn’t been in the expectation of Dean’s anger but rather the expectation of his brother heading straight up the steps and out of the bunker and maybe to town to drink or fuck his hurt away.

Because he had hurt Dean, he knew it. He just couldn’t do a thing about it.

Except Dean didn’t go. He came around the table, and crouched down in front of Sam, and reached up to cup his face.

“It’s okay,” he said. ‘This isn’t going to change anything, Sammy, okay? We are where we are. You gotta believe me.”

Sam nodded, fighting back the tears burning at his eyes, but losing the battle.

Dean pulled him into his arms, rocking him a little, and Sam just gave it up, fear and relief draining him and leaving him a broken wreck in his brother’s hold.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Dean said, and gently ran his fingers through Sam’s hair.

++

It was okay. As the weeks turned into months, and Sam started to show (he didn’t have much of a tummy for the first few months, and then he woke up one morning and looked like he’d swallowed a cabbage whole), though, they did have to make some changes.

They stopped hunting, at least short term; any jobs that came in were fielded out to whatever hunter was in the area, and reliable.

Cas, having once more to choose between his human family and his celestial kin, when there was no way to balance it out this time, chose them, and stayed home to make sure they were both okay.

Because Dean…. Sam might have been the one who was pregnant, but Dean was having kittens, baby prepping the bunker, disinfecting every surface that Sam might come into contact with at some point in his lifetime.

And yet, he hadn’t actually spoken directly to Sam about the baby. It was like dealing with the physical, practical aspects was all he could handle, and while Sam appreciated it, it didn’t exactly reassure him that he and Dean were going to survive this as a couple.

He could have kicked his own ass: for the despondent sex with some stranger, for not using protection, for not waiting just another fortnight and then it would have been okay.

Logically he knew, and Cas told him the same whenever they had some time alone, that he was being way too hard on himself. But he didn’t want this baby, no matter that he wanted it badly, to cost him his relationship with Dean.

If it came to it, though, and he had to choose…

He would still have his brother, just not how he’d hoped for all those years but one thing his life had conditioned him to was that rarely did he get what he wanted, and even more rarely did he get to keep it.

++

“Fuck, fuck, there,” Dean said. His hands were slick with blood, and Sam dabbed another sponge into the gaping hole in Cas’s side, trying to soak up the red so that Dean could see, but then his brother’s fingers closed around the tooth (wicked, serrated, and still tearing into the angel as if the creature it had belonged to _wasn’t_ a smouldering corpse an hour away) and yanked it out.

He tossed it into the kidney dish by the bed, and then Sam dumped the sponge aside and quickly packed the wound with as much gauze as was to hand.

Dean wrapped a pressure bandage around the angel’s torso, and then slumped down into a chair. He stared brokenly at the unconscious angel, and Sam could almost hear him starting to self blame.

“No,” he said. His own hands were caked with Cas’s blood, red filling the grooves and lines in his hands, but it didn’t matter. He came around the table, and guided Dean’s chin until his brother was looking at him. “We didn’t know this would happen. And there wasn’t anybody else to help.”

Not that they’d made that much of a difference. By the time they reached the camp site, the whatever the fuck that was had already killed a family with two kids and bitten a chunk out of Cas before he managed to finish it.

Dean had hastily dumped a can of gasoline on the thing and set it alight before he had gotten Cas into the back seat and Sam had put as much pressure on the wound as he could, growing more and more scared as he realised Cas was still bleeding.

Of course, now they knew why, and they’d fixed it, so Cas would be fine once he woke up.

“Yeah,” Dean said, but Sam could tell he wasn’t convinced. It was never as simple as telling Dean he was wrong because, and Sam loved his brother, he did, Dean always invested so much energy into being right (especially when it involved blaming himself for stuff that just wasn’t his fault).

There was a weird rattling sound from the kidney dish; Sam, closer, now, turned towards it, and leaned in (a mistake, in hindsight, like them taking the job but again, who was to know), and the tooth was twitching around in there.

“Unbelievable,” he said, and then the tooth suddenly flipped itself up to stand on its point like a ballet dancer. “Uhh...Dean?”

Before Sam could move or say anything else, it flicked itself at him.

He stumbled back on reflex, panicked, mind thrown by _a killer tooth, what the hell was their lives_ and his foot caught something.

As he started to fall, the tooth arching to follow, Dean stepped in its path, a metal instrument tray in his hands, and batted it hard against the opposite wall.

Before it could replay that scene from _Aliens_, Dean was on it, using the butt of his gun to smash it into powder.

He stayed there, squatted down, panting, and looked over at Sam.

“What the fuck are our lives?”

Sam was sore and just as breathless as Dean, but he laughed. He couldn’t help it, and his eyes were streaming and his sides ached by the time his brother had got his ass over to him to help him carefully up.

“Yeah,” Dean said, staring at him like he might be cursed. “Attached by a goddamn zombie tooth. That’s freaking hilarious, Sam.”

Sam finally quit when his back started to hurt, and his stomach. Too much of a good thing he guessed, but when he looked at his brother, who seemed to get now that they were all okay or going to be, there was the hint of a smile there.

Sam squeezed his hand.

And then squeezed harder.

Dean winced, but Sam couldn’t help it.

The pain, that had started innocent, didn’t feel like it now. He was on fire, lava trickling through his sides, his back, until he was almost leaning all his weight on Dean and trying to remember just to breathe.

His pants were suddenly clinging to him, and Dean and he both looked down at the liquid spattering onto the ground beneath him.

“Okay,” Dean said. “Sammy, it’s okay.” He hauled him to the next infirmary bed, and hefted him carefully up on to it.

That nearly pushed him under, but Dean slapped his face hard. “Don’t you dare.”

Sam reached for Cas, the next bed over, with a trembling hand.

Dean glanced over his shoulder, shook his head. “Gonna be a while for the family angel, Sammy. We’ll handle this, okay?”

No, no, not okay, because something was wrong, and Sam could feel it. This, he should have known, was how it was going to go, why did he even think he’d get to have this? Be with Dean, have Cas close and safe, and get to have a kid?

A kid Dean didn’t even want because everything his brother had done so far had been for him, Sam, not a baby some stranger had fucked into him two weeks before they got together.

And then Dean’s hand was on his face, warm and sure, and Sam turned tearful eyes on his brother.

“We’re here,” he told Sam. “All three of us. Soon to be four. And we’ll find a way to make this work, little brother, okay?”

Sam swallowed hard. So maybe he’d said all that aloud and…

He screamed unashamedly as pain wracked him then, core deep, and Dean just tore his pants down each side and yanked them away.

“Yeah, he’s not hanging around,” Dean said. 

He grabbed a blanket from the corner, and folded it as a pad before setting down ready for the new arrival.

“Just push when you need to, Sam. I’ll tell you if you have to stop.”

He needed to right then, and he bore down as hard as he could because the sooner this was over….

“Okay, easy, wait,” Dean said, and Sam panted his way through the next wave of pain, before his brother nodded. “Okay, go.”

It took two or three more deep pushes before the baby slipped out into Dean’s waiting hold, and Sam was exhausted then, sore and drained, but he pushed himself up and watched as Dean tipped the body over onto his front, and then spanked it once, just a light tap on the ass, and boy it wasn’t happy about that.

It let them all know it, and Dean was grinning madly as he clipped the cord and then carefully handled the swaddled, screeching bundle over to Sam.

Sam took it gently, staring at the tiny face screwed up in displeasure at something, everything, and glanced back at this brother.

“Little boy,” he told Sam. “We’ve got a little boy, Sam.”

_We’ve_.

Sam reached out for Dean, and pulled him close. 

_We’ve_.


End file.
